by Liana Brooks
“No, Master.”
“Turn it on, full blast. Aim it for my room.”
“Sir?” Hert frowned in puzzlement.
“It might work on Tabitha long enough for me to fix the Morality Machine. I just need to convince her to give me a second chance. She fell in love with me once, it can happen again.”
Hert frowned. “It’s meant to handle simple yes or no statements, sir. I don’t know if it will have the desired effect.”
“I don’t want desire. I want her to agree to forgive me until I get the Morality Machine fixed. Turn it on.” He grabbed the watch that contained the smallest version of the ray on the way out of the lab.
The lights were already out in the bedroom and he tiptoed across the carpet. Evan could feel the faint pulse of magnetic waves. Tabitha’s scent struck him in the dark—a lush promise of fantasy fulfillment. He wanted nothing more than to slip under the sheets, hear her giggle, and feel her naked body wrap around him. With a strangled groan, he dropped into bed. Tabitha moved under the covers, the sound of cotton on cotton telling him she wasn’t naked at all.
He leaned over her in the darkness, put his lips to her ear, and whispered, “I love you.”
She didn’t answer.
Chapter Nine
I proposed to Tabitha the second time we met. I had spent the intervening months stalking her, searching for a weakness, and making sure she didn’t already have a boyfriend. For the life of me, I could never explain why she didn’t. I can only assume every other sentient being on the planet thought themselves unworthy of her attention.
They were right. Superb doesn’t begin to describe my wife. She is the pinnacle of feminine creation: intelligent, generous, giving, virtuous, funny, beautiful. I dreamed of telling her about my day, conquering the world and laying it at her feet. All I wanted was her by my side, sharing every moment of my life.
***
Tabitha lay beside him in their bed, resplendent and peaceful in a pair of faded gray sweats. He brushed a loose hair from her face, longing to reach those last few inches and kiss her, hold her, lock her to him so the terrible fear would go away. But he couldn’t, not until she gave him permission. The look of disgust she’d given him the night before had cut him too deep. Somehow, he had to erase that look.
Evan rolled away with a sigh. Nearly a day without sex. Somewhere in the murky depths of Life-Before-Tabitha he’d gone weeks without sex, months in some cases. Sometimes he’d even been too busy to smile at pretty girls, let alone get seduced by them.
Now he was hot, tight, and hungry in a purely physical way. Lying next to her without touching might kill him. Or qualify him for sainthood. Wouldn’t that be awkward? Doctor Charm canonized by the Pope for not touching his wife.
With a longing look back at her, he headed for an ice-cold shower. The water managed to freeze his libido, barely. Evan stepped out of the shower with his teeth chattering and fumbled for a towel. He pulled the last clean one out from under the sink and knocked over a set of black and gold T-shirts. A too-sweet floral scent wafted up. That wasn’t Tabitha’s normal perfume at all. This was the kind she would gag over when the lady at the perfume counter attacked.
He cinched the towel around his waist and held one of the T-shirts up. “Baby? Where’d you get these shirts?” He walked into the bedroom with the shirt in front of him.
Tabitha opened her blue eyes and screamed.
Evan spun around, looking for something wrong. “Tabitha? What? What’s wrong, baby?”
She scrambled away from him on the bed. “Get away from me!”
He froze. “I’m away, I’m away. What’s wrong? I just wanted to know where you got the T-shirts.”
“Give me that!” she ordered.
He tossed it on the bed and she pulled it close like a teddy bear, breathing deeply. “Don’t touch my stuff.”
“Sorry. It fell out when I went to get my towel. I didn’t mean...anything.” How did he get into this mess? “Are you going to punish me for everything now? ‘Cause if you are, may I suggest a whip and handcuffs? We’ve never tried that.”
She swept past him with a haughty look, slamming the door in his face.
“Tabitha, my clothes are in there.”
A minute later, a pair of jeans and stained white shirt hit the bed.
“Thanks.”
He dressed and waited for her to change.
Tabitha stepped out with her hair pulled back in a ponytail that he wanted to free her hair from, her new college T-shirt tight enough to taunt him with everything he wanted to touch, and soft, faded blue jeans he knew felt as good as they looked.
Everything about her begged for him to touch, to worship the body of his goddess. “Tabitha...” It was a prayer.
Her eyes went wide and she froze. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to talk to you.” For a given value of talk, that was true. He wanted to use his tongue on her. That was almost the same as talking.
“No, I mean what are you doing here in this room?”
“Waiting to talk to you,” Evan said slowly, patiently enunciating each word.
She turned slowly, studying the room. “Why am I here?”
“Because this is your bedroom?” he guessed as his patience frayed to one last thread.“Let’s sit and talk, yes?” The Agree-With-Me Ray was still pumping vibrations through the floor. It was a yes or no question. All she needed to do was not fight him.
Tabitha hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m leaving.”
“Tabitha, no! Don’t go. We can work this out.”
She grabbed her purse and frowned at him. “I don’t even know you.”
Evan stared at the closed door, lost.
“Daddy?” Maria walked over and slipped her hand into his. “Why is Mommy slamming doors?”
The truth was impossible. Evan couldn’t even articulate the idea. “Um, she was in a rush, sweetie. A big project.”
He ran a hand through his hair and choked back tears. Tabitha... He couldn’t... This was a nightmare. Some horrible dream brought on by too much pizza and stress. He would wake up, roll over, and his wife would be smiling at him suggestively. If he closed his eyes, he’d be stretched next to her beneath the sheets. He’d go exploring, reconquering familiar terrain just like the first time...
“Daddy?”
He blinked. “I need to get dressed. Get your sisters up, it’s playgroup day.”
“What about breakfast?”
If he saw the pot of burnt spaghetti, he’d throw up. If he saw the bottle of wine from their honeymoon, he’d break it open and drown himself. “We’ll buy donuts.”
“Okay.” Maria ran off, shouting for her sisters to wake up.
He locked the door and found himself sitting on the bed hugging Tabitha’s pillow. It smelled like her, a mix of floral notes and spice and something exotic that was all Tabitha. A scent he’d know anywhere. He sniffed again. And something else. Different. A sharp sweetness that turned his stomach.
He held the pillow to his face, trying to name the elusive scent. The perfume she’d worn last night. A new scent, but that was no surprise. People liked giving super heroes presents. She’d probably stopped by a college town for lunch, and someone had recognized her and given her the perfume along with a stack of T-shirts. With a sigh, he dropped the pillow.
The sound of the girls chattering in the living room told him they’d finished getting ready for the Mommy’s Day Out playgroup. A hundred dollars a head and some nice ladies from the local churches would watch your kids in a moldy basement for three hours so you could keep your sanity. Evan really wanted to spend the three hours forgetting yesterday ever happened. And this morning. And maybe tomorrow.
He hit his face, trying to slap himself back to intelligence.
Tabitha was angry. Good. Fine. He knew that might happen. The Morality Machine was a calculated risk. There had always been a chance the calibra
tion would fail, or that her basic chemistry would change. Even he couldn’t build a flawless machine, although he’d never had a complaint before. Still—Evan took a deep breath—he could see why she objected. Leaving her aroused for seven years was a little unfair. He’d always meant to slowly turn the machine down and lull her into happily married life.
But that carried the risk of losing her. What if she didn’t like him anymore when the machine turned off? What if he wasn’t her type? Or she met someone else? Losing her was the one nightmare he couldn’t face.
And now she was gone.
One of the girls banged on the door. “Daddy!” Blessing hollered. “I’m hungry! I want a pink one!”
“Hold on,” Evan said. “Let me get my socks.” Even in the bathroom chilled by his cold shower, her perfume still lingered. Tabitha’s ring twinkled beside the sink. Evan picked it up, reverentially running his thumb over the smooth white gold. Tears blurred the shape of the diamond. He’d bought it for her before they’d eloped to Australia. She’d been wearing an ocean blue skirt over a tiny white bikini, the diamond sparkling in the sunlight. Three carats of flawless marquise cut shining over Byron Bay as they said their vows. It fit perfectly.
She loved that ring. She’d loved him. For seven perfect years, she’d loved him.
The ring cut into his clenched fist. It hurt, but not as much as watching her walk out that door. The look in her eyes, disappointment and betrayal, hurt most of all.
What sort of idiot burns spaghetti sauce? Oh, Tabitha, love. That wasn’t even the important question. What sort of idiot can’t make his wife love him?
Somehow he’d known all along she didn’t really love him. Oh, there had been lust at first. An initial spark of interest that made everything the Morality Machine did possible. But he’d known in his heart-of-hearts that a woman like her could never love a man like him. He could have her body, but he could never have her admiration. Women like her wanted perfect men. Super men. Heroes, not villains.
It didn’t matter.
He pulled on a clean shirt. Today he’d fix the Morality Machine, and tracking down Tabitha would be a simple matter of watching the news. He’d find her, turn on the machine, and fix this mess.
When Election Day rolled around, it wouldn’t matter that he couldn’t cook. He’d be president of the United States. If a computer geek who worked freelance out of his basement wasn’t good enough for her, the president and de facto leader of the free world would be.
He pulled on his jacket out of habit and froze, captivated by his reflection in the mirror. The jacket, custom-tailored black Dior, had been off-limits since the wedding. It always hung in the closet, a laughable reminder of life before her. The jacket radiated warmth, like a favorite blanket. It hugged him, promised him security.
“Daddy!” The scream at the door was accompanied by a ruckus that would make a zombie horde proud.
Toddlers and Dior didn’t mix. The jacket went back in the closet. Today was a grease and gears day. The jacket could wait.
“You girls ready?” he asked with a big, fake smile as he opened the door.
Chapter Ten
I can count on one hand the number of times I have cried in my life. I cried when the doctors told us Blessing would live. I cried when we buried my parents after a drunk crossed the yellow line. Then Tabitha left me, and I learned what true sorrow was. There is no pain like losing the woman you love.
***
“Master?” Hert sidled up to the worktable cautiously.
Evan’s gaze slid sideways to the paper Hert held, probably another calendar revision reminding him of the week he’d lost to the depression. “What?”
“We found her, Master.” The minion held a paper out, quivering in terror.
“Give me that.” Evan snatched it away. “I am not that scary,” he shouted as Hert flinched.
The minions all ducked.
From across the room, Angela frowned at him from her throne of stuffed animals. He’d spent sleepless nights waiting for Tabitha to come home, clearing part of the lab and turning it into a kid-safe play area complete with ratty couch, old TV, and movies on VHS. The girls were fascinated by the ancient technology. Black ribbons of cassette tape hung from the ceiling like paper chains designed by Death.
He glowered back, and his daughter’s eyes narrowed, making her look painfully like her mother.
A wave of happiness hit him. The gears spread out on the table looked like dancing daisies. Pink clouds floated past. Evan shook his head, but the pink clouds persisted. A small rainbow burst in front of him. “Angela?”
“Yes, Daddy?” she asked in a smug tone that was an exact replica of Tabby’s when she’d just won a fight.
“Stop it, or you’re grounded.”
The pink clouds vanished, melting into the dungeon gray of the basement. His own dark feelings of self-hate and fear returned. “You should never manipulate people’s emotions, Angela. That’s what super villains do.”
She unwound her blanket and walked over to his workbench. “Is that what you do?”
“What?” He looked up in alarm, then picked up a gear and made a show of studying it.
“You’re a villain aren’t you, Daddy?”
He tapped the gear slowly on the tabletop. “Of course not.”
“Then why do you have machines and minions?”
Evan glanced at Hert. “They’re cheaper than cats and dogs.”
Angela crossed her arms. The other girls were paying attention now, cherubic faces peeking out of their blanket fort. “You make people agree with you.”
“Obviously not,” he growled, “or we wouldn’t be having this argument.”
“You’re a super villain.”
“Would your mother marry a super villain? She’s a super hero. Everyone knows super heroes don’t marry villains. There are rules.”
Tears filled her eyes. “You tricked her! That’s why she left us! You tricked her!”
“What? No! Sweetie, no.” Evan scooped her up in a hug as guilt twisted in his gut like a knife. “No, Angela, no. Mommy knew I was a bad guy. I gave that up so I could be with her. I didn’t trick her. I love her.”
“But you are a villain,” Angela said.
“Only as a hobby.” He patted her back and rocked side to side like she was still three months old and easily calmed. He glanced at the paper Hert had pushed at him. “Girls? How would you like to go to Colorado?”
Chapter Eleven
Pick up and leave home? Home is where the heart is. Tabitha is the soul and center of my world. I could no more willingly live apart from her than I could will myself to quit breathing.
***
Evan watched from the foyer of the university biology building as students walked through the pine-studded campus. Tabitha stepped out of the library wearing jeans and a conservative T-shirt. His breath caught. She looked amazing. His heart raced as he waited for her to turn and smile. He needed that smile more than anything in the world.
“Mister Fascino?” The dean of the biology department opened his office door.
Evan tucked the cuff of his Dior suit shirtsleeve over the miniaturized Agree-With-Me Ray then turned with a smile. “Dean Lang, it’s so good of you to see me at such short notice.”
The giant of a man laughed heartily. “Trust me when I say, Mister Fascino, that I would rather speak with prospective teachers than the prospectus committee again. Drink?” he offered, motioning to a decanter of amber liquid sitting on a low side table near oversized windows.
“No, thank you.” Evan took a seat and smiled at the dean. “I’ve found it’s dangerous to accept unknown liquids from the biology department. Biologists have such a quirky sense of humor.”
Dean Lang laughed. “We have more petri dishes filled with strawberry Jell-O on April Fools’ Day than real specimens. That’s eighteen-year-old Glenlivet whiskey, if you’re interested. A gift from the family when I took the job.” He settled his comfortable bulk into a dark leather
chair. “So, you’re interested in teaching here?”
“Yes, sir,” Evan said, stepping away from mental calculations of how much the dean had spent on office furniture. “Professor Buckley mentioned there was an opening as an ethics lecturer. I’ve wanted an excuse to move to the area, so I thought I’d apply.”
All of that was true. Since finding out that Tabitha had enrolled as a mid-semester transfer last week under the name Zinnia Perl, he was more than a little interested in moving to the foothills. Finding the aging Professor Buckley and persuading him to take an early retirement had taken all of ten minutes, in which time the professor had mentioned someone would need to fill his post as the ethics teacher—a class Tabitha took four days a week.
“And, have you ever taught ethics?” the dean asked.
“Not as such, sir. I hold dual degrees in genetics and mechanical engineering. I’m very familiar with the ethical quandaries of science. I’ve attended a number of ethics classes and symposiums.” Mostly true. He’d tested out of a number of ethics classes, which was practically the same thing.
Evan adjusted the mini Agree-With-Me Ray clipped to his watch. “Why don’t I start today?”
The dean blinked at him with an expression of bovine confusion.
Being in that class was essential to life. If he couldn’t see Tabitha soon he wouldn’t survive another day. He needed something from her, a look, a gesture, something to give him hope.
She’d have no way to ignore him. Angry as she was, she wouldn’t miss the chance to ask about the girls. Maybe threaten him. It didn’t matter. She could break every bone in his body if it meant she’d consider forgiving him. He tapped the watch again. “Class starts in a few minutes. You want me there.”
“Ah,” said the dean, shaking his head. “Are you...are you quite ready to teach? I could have someone else fill in.”
“No need. Professor Buckley was kind enough to give me a copy of his lecture notes. I know the material.”
Dean Lang rubbed his temples. “Well, if you’re quite sure. I suppose I could, um...ah.”
